He stepped in until Mara's back touched the pillar again.
"They'll come for you," he said. "They'll cut the bind out of your arm. They won't care if you survive it."
Mara held his stare. His face was close enough for her to see the tiny cut along his cheek, the blood drying at the edge of his mouth.
"You threatening me again?"
"I'm telling you the rules."
"You made the rules."
"No. The curse did."
"Then kill yourself and save us both the trouble."
His eyes went cold.
"You first," he said.
Mara slapped him.
The sound cracked through the warehouse.
Riven's head turned with the blow. He did not release her arm.
When he faced her again, his thumb brushed once over the black mark on her skin.
The touch was careful. That made it worse.
"You don't get to touch me like you own me," she said.
"I don't own you."
"You chained me to your pulse."
"And you put a knife through me."
"You survived."
"Barely."
"You heal fast."
"Not fast enough."
His voice dropped. "If you want to keep your brother alive, you need me alive."
Mara's hand tightened around the iron spike.
"Don't use him."
"Then stop pretending this is only about the bounty."
"It is about the bounty."
"You spent twenty thousand crowns before you earned them. Prison debt. Food debt. Bribes. A guard in Blackstone who likes silver more than law."
Her stomach twisted.
"Who told you?"
"Your paperwork did."
"You searched my things?"
"I searched the woman who came to kill me."
"You could have asked."
"Would you have answered?"
"No."
"Exactly."
A bell rang outside.
Once.
Then twice.
Riven's head snapped toward the doors.
Mara heard boots beyond the warehouse walls. Too many. Metal struck stone. Someone shouted for the doors to be opened.
"Court wardens?" she asked.
"Worse."
"You have a lot of enemies."
"You joined them when you cut me."
"I didn't join anything."
"Tell that to your wrist."
The black mark pulsed again.
This time, a thin line of darkness spread from Mara's palm toward her elbow. She grabbed Riven's sleeve.
"Stop it."
"I can't."
"You're doing something."
"I'm holding it back."
"Then hold harder."
Riven pressed his bleeding hand over the mark.
His palm was hot. The black line stopped moving.
Mara's breath caught before she could stop it.
Riven noticed. Of course he did.
"You can let go now," she said.
"If I let go, it spreads."
"Convenient."
"You think I enjoy having your pulse under my hand?"
"You look like you enjoy control."
"I enjoy not dying."
"Could've fooled me."
The warehouse doors shook under a heavy impact.
Riven pulled Mara toward the rear of the building.
She dug in her heels. "Where are you taking me?"
"Out."
"I don't follow orders from men who curse strangers."
"Then follow the blood."
He lifted his injured hand.
Blood dripped from his fingers.
Mara felt every drop hit her own skin, cold and sharp, though none of it touched her.
"You feel that?" he asked.
"I feel everything you feel."
"Not everything."
His eyes held hers for one dangerous beat.
Mara jerked her arm free. "Keep walking."
They reached a narrow service door.
Riven pulled a ring of keys from his belt and tried the first lock.
The door boomed behind them.
"Hale!" someone shouted. "Open the door!"
Mara raised her spike. "Friends of yours?"
"No."
"You keep saying that too."
The second key snapped in the lock.
Riven swore under his breath.
Mara crouched beside him. "Move."
"You don't know the mechanism."
"I know locks."
"This one is court-made."
"Then it's overpriced and badly designed. Move."
He shifted aside, but not far enough. His shoulder pressed against hers while she worked. His heat soaked through her sleeve. Every small movement dragged their arms together.
"You're crowding me," she said.
"The door is small."
"You could stand behind me."
"Someone has to watch the entrance."
"You don't trust me?"
"You tried to kill me twice."
"Three times."
"That isn't helping your case."
Mara slid a thin pick into the lock. "You didn't answer my question."
"No, I don't trust you."
"Good. I hate disappointing people."
The lock clicked.
Riven caught her waist and pulled her back just as the service door burst inward.
A bolt flew through the space where her head had been and struck the wall.
Mara hit Riven's chest. His arm locked around her middle, holding her against him while dust rained from the frame.
His heart hammered beneath her ear.
Her mark answered.
"Let go," she whispered.
"Not while they're shooting."
"You're enjoying this."
"You're shaking."
"I'm deciding where to stab you."
"Decide faster."
He shoved her through the doorway and followed, slamming it shut behind them.
They ran down a narrow passage between old buildings. Riven kept one hand on her arm, not gentle, not quite rough. Every time she tried to pull away, the mark on her wrist sparked.
"Stop dragging me," Mara snapped.
"Stop trying to get killed."
"I was doing fine before you."
"You were bleeding out on my floor."
"You were the one bleeding."
"Exactly."
Another bolt struck the wall beside Mara's head.
Riven yanked her into an alcove.
His body covered hers again. One hand braced beside her face. The other held her wrist against his chest.
Boots thundered past the mouth of the passage.
Mara could feel the heat of his breath near her temple.
"If you say stay quiet," she whispered, "I'll bite you."
"You already head-butted me."
"I have range."
His mouth twitched. "I believe you."
The footsteps faded.
Riven did not move.
Mara looked up. "They're gone."
"Not all of them."
"How do you know?"
"Because the smart ones don't run past an exit."
A scrape sounded above them.
Mara glanced up.
A figure crawled along the roofline, wrapped in a pale mask and a coat dusted with ash.
Riven's hand tightened over her wrist.
"Who is that?" she asked.
"Don't move."
"You know them."
"I know what they are."
The figure stopped above the alley and turned its masked face toward Mara.
The mask had no eyes.
Still, Mara knew it was looking straight at her.
The black mark on her wrist burned so hard she almost cried out.
Riven pulled her closer. His mouth came near her ear.
"When I say run, you run."
"And if I don't?"
"I'll carry you."
"Try it and lose the arm."
"You keep threatening parts of me."
"You keep giving me reasons."
The masked figure raised one hand.
Every corpse in the alley stood up.
They had been scattered beneath carts and doorways, gray bodies mistaken for piles of refuse. One by one, ash cracked off their backs.
Riven's sword came free.
"Mara," he said, "now."
She reached for the iron spike.
The city lamps went out.
The blackout swallowed the passage.
For one heartbeat, nothing moved.
Then every ash-covered corpse snapped its head toward Mara.
Riven's fingers clamped around her wrist.
"Stay behind me," he ordered.
Mara lifted the spike, but the nearest corpse opened its burning mouth and whispered her name.
Riven dragged her backward as the masked figure dropped from the roof, blade raised over Mara's shoulder—
"Now keep me alive," Riven said, and the blade began to fall.